I Don't

“Why are you here instead of primping for your wedding, Kate? Aren’t you and Tommy getting married in a little over an hour? Or are capris and sandals the latest in bridal wear?”

“Yeah, aren’t they great? Perfect for a fast getaway.” I wink. Harriet—Harry—laughs and shakes her gray head. “Seriously, I’m ready except for the dress. Won’t take a minute to change when I get to St. Jerome’s.”

“Can I get you a refill?” She nods at my empty coffee cup. Harry tends bar for the lunchtime crowd at Harry’s Place. I’m a regular here, since it’s right across the street from Tommy Flannigan’s accounting office where I work. As it happens, today I’m early.

“No thanks, Harry. Don’t want a case of the jitters. Got a special day ahead.”

“Maybe I should get you a sandwich, then. You should eat something.”

Eat. Isn’t that what they say to the bereaved? Well, I guess someone did die. Me. “You’re right, Harry. Why don’t you ask Billy to make me a ham and cheese on rye with a juicy kosher dill …